Andrew McClain: Mudblood
by J. Freshman
Summary: Umm.. first post here. My first chapter about Andrew McClain, the wizard of muggle parents. Comes to HW around 23 years after Harry and Co.


Chapter 1: The Odd Couple

"To become a teacher one must..." the school counselor droned on. At Lawrence Primary School, the staff was determined to give their students an extra step on students from other schools when it came to choosing a career. When a student reached grade six, they were encouraged to set up an appointment with the counselor to talk about potential careers. One was to write down three careers you liked, along with a time and date for a visit, and turn it in to MS. Claussen, the guidance counselor. But in all honesty, how many children around the age of 11 were seriously considering career choices? Most were barely becoming interested in girls, and sports, movies, and music dominated their lives. So when Andrew McClain signed up for his appointment he simple wrote down the jobs his parents have. He wrote down "Journalist", for his father Alexander was a well-known international journalist. He wrote down "Teacher", because his mum Arianna was a secondary school teacher in a town nearby. For his third career he wrote down "Football", his favorite sport. Already nearing five feet six inches and very slender, Andrew was built for football. He was known on local football pitches as "Fresh," the kid who never used the same move in the same game twice. He just turned 11 in March, but already in the sixth grade, a very bright child, but very much an introvert. He didn't make friends very easily, but had no trouble making enemies. Many children his age, and some that were older than Andrew were jealous of his abilities, and it showed. He was constantly the butt of jokes, was always played a little bit more physical, if not dirty, when he played football. He always left a game with bruises and small injuries, but he still managed to do his job. Several local clubs took notice of his ability, including the Yorkville Yellow Jackets. They offered Andrew a spot without even having a tryout. Playing with the Yellow Jackets had always been a dream of Andrew's since he had been a small child learning the game. His father had played for the Jackets, as well as his uncle Steven. Football was at the top of his list, and it showed.

Daydreaming as usual, his gaze flowing out the window. It looked like a perfect day. A few clouds, but tons of sunshine. It had been cool in the morning, even too cool at lunch this afternoon, but it was still perfect football weather. Andrew couldn't wait to be done, get out of here, and go play the game he loved. Ms. Claussen finally caught his gaze, and jostled for the attention of the window.

"Andrew. PAY attention please! This is the forth time I've had to awaken you from your daydreams," she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry Ms. Claussen. This stuff is just kind of boring to me you know? That's why my attention is not so easily focused," Andrew replied.

Ms. Claussen looked perturbed. "Boring you say? Young man, the career path you choose designates how your entire life will be run. It is no simple task to choose your entire life!"

Andrew sighed. "But ma'am, I'm only just 11. How does a career choice, or really even seriously considering a choice make sense at my age?"

"The earlier the better, I always say," Ms. Claussen said. "Anyways Andrew, the time we have together is up. I would suggest considering another appointment with me, on perhaps a less beautiful day."

Andrew stood up and extended his hand, shaking Ms. Claussen's. He slung his bag over his shoulder, picked up his small stack of books from the desk and turned to walk out. As he left, he looked over his shoulder and said "Thanks ma'am." Ms. Claussen nodded turned her chair to her computer to continue work on a document of some sort.

He walked by the secretary's desk, and let himself out of the office. He was happy to finally be out of the stuffy room. School would be over in a minute or two, so there was no reason to be going back to class. Andrew was very thankful for this. He seemed to suffocate in the school on such nice days, simply because he was not outside to enjoy the beautiful weather. He remembered he had to pick up a book from his locker, so he turned down the hallway, and started walking towards his locker. He had just gotten to his locker when a voice behind him startled him.

"Yoohoo! Andrew!" He turned to find Nicole Thatcher, his "girlfriend." He didn't really consider her anything more than a friend, but Nicole, a 12 year old in grade seven, insisted upon calling him boyfriend, and asked that he would return the favor.

He offered her a slight smile, and said "Hey 'Cole. I forgot I had a meeting with Ms. Claussen and then...

Nicole cut him off. "Oh don't worry about it cutie. Listen, do you want to come over to my flat. My parents are still at work..." She let sentence trail off. Andrew new exactly what she wanted, but with a girl he still considered no more than a friend, going to her house to snog wasn't his style. Besides that, he was convinced his looks and ability made Nicole like him, not the person he was. She had all the friends, he had none. They didn't seem much like a "normal" couple. Excuses started running into his head; dying aunt? chores? football practice? He settled for chores.

"Look, umm I have a ton of chores to do, and mum will be extremely upset if I don't get them done... I'm still on a short leash from the last time I didn't do them," Andrew lied.

"Oh sure.. I just... Never mind... Gotta go! Ciao!" And she turned and walked quickly down the hall.

"Yea... see you later I guess." He yelled after her.

Was it wrong of him to lie? In a way, it kept her feelings from being hurt. Andrew wasn't interested in girls right now. He hadn't "enlightened" yet, or something. His friends, all three of them, wanted girlfriends, but couldn't get them. And here I am, with one of the prettiest, most popular girls in the whole school, he thought. Talk about irony.

Andrew dumped his books into his bag and walked down the hall towards the front of the school. With his dad away covering a story in Ireland, and his mum staying after school for a meeting, Andrew decided to do some drills and then walk home. But in the short time from his office daydreams until now, the sky had grayed over, and it was beginning to rain.

"Well if this don't beat everything," he mumbled aloud. "No drills, just a soggy, long walk home. It doesn't seem to get much better than this."

He threw his bag over his head, and began the walk home. His school was a good three miles from the neighborhood in which he lived. He had jogged the distance several times, but that was in gym shorts and a t-shirt. Right now it was impossible to consider jogging. Wearing the dress pants, shoes, and shirt, and his new navy tie was not something one could jog in, let alone comfortably.

He tried his best to walk in the short grass along the road, but it looked like the grass hadn't been cut in weeks. Where some of it was short, most of it was long, forcing Andrew to walk along the side of the road. It wouldn't be long before a car would blow by, plastering him with dirty rain water. His bag, soaking wet, was dripping all over his mop-top black hair, pasting it to his face.

After a good thirty minutes of walking along and alone in these conditions he entered the front of the neighborhood. All the houses looked as if they had been made by one of six cookie cutters, all the way down to the landscaping. The only real difference was color, and there only five different colors to choose from. He made his way down the sidewalk, up to his house 5731 Madison Street. He opened the door, sitting his bag and shoes on the rug and walked in.

"Mom? Are you home yet?" He called into the house.

No answer usually meant no, but now and then mom didn't here him. He proceed to unstick his wet clothes from his body on his way up the stairs. He threw all of his wet clothes into a pile, grabbed a t-shirt and jeans from his dresser, and went into the bathroom. After a good long shower warmed him up, he tossed his wet clothes into the shower where he would get them later, and headed downstairs. But before he even got halfway down the stairs, a lough thump resonated throughout the house, seemingly shaking it to it's foundations. It seemed to have come from the living room, so Andrew padded down the stairs, turned the corner, and walked into the room.

There, completely covered in soot and ash stood a woman in her forties, and a very tall man around the same age. They were arguing in whispers over something.

"Ron, I told you this was a crazy idea, but as usual I just go along with it! We should have just apparated to the front of his house, and knocked on the door like normal people!"

"Oh Hermione, just back off would ya? How was I supposed to know they don't clean their chimney well. Just because it hasn't seen a decent sweep in ages, doesn't mean this was the wrong way to go. Besides, who is to say if we had apparated we wouldn't have been seen? There are a lot of people in this neighborhood, and McGonagall said this was the safest way to go," retorted Ron.

"Who in the bloody hell are you two? And where did you come from!" Andrew yelled, breaking his watchful silence.

"Well, I'm Hermione Weasley, Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor house at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Transfigure-what? Witchcraft and Wizardry? Are you psycho?" Andrew exclaimed.

Ron snickered a bit. "Well yes she is, but this time she's telling the truth. I'm Ronald Weasley, Hermione's husband. And could you STOP glaring at me dear?" Andrew looked over at Hermione, who was glaring very hard at Ron through the soot on her face. Andrew himself was cast a bit assunder by the gaze, but obviously Ron had seen it a number of times, as it did not exhibit the same reaction on him. But Andrew was not satisfied by the answers.

"That still doesn't explain why you are here, what you are talking about, or how you got in," he said, still a little upset with the two complete strangers standing in his room.

Hermione took a deep breath, as Ron dusted more ash and soot off his clothes. "We came here to tell you that you have been invited to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We came by a network of travel through which only wizards and witches can pass. It's a transport through fireplaces, called the Floo Network. Most muggle fireplaces are not on the network, but you have been added today because we are coming for a visit."

Andrew's jaw dropped, all anger gone. "You two are a witch, and a wizard? Like spells and curses and stuff?

Ron spoke up. "Not so much on the curse side, but spells, potions, magical creatures, sports, etc."

"Magical creatures?"

"Oh yes," said Hermione. "From goblins to centaurs and giants to hippogriffs and beyond Andrew."

"How do you know my name?" The shock was beginning to set in, replacing all of his anger, filling him with excitement.

Hermione spoke again. "Headmistress McGonagall has known about you since you were born. Even though you were born a muggle, I mean a "non-magical" person, you are a wizard. I too was born to non-magic parents, but I am a witch."

"And a smart one at that," Ron chimed in.

"So let me get this straight? There's an alternate universe that witches and wizards live in?"

"No, not quite. I thought the same thing," replied Hermione. Ron gestured for Andrew to sit down, but Andrew shook his head. He pointed at the seat, and nodded, gesturing that Ron may sit if he wished. Ron decided to take a seat on the couch Andrew gestured at. Andrew returned his attention to Hermione. This was the most intent he had ever payed attention to anyone who wasn't a coach or his parents. Sometimes even his parents couldn't command his attention like this. But this was new to him. Magic, creatures he'd never heard of, this was amazing. "We don't live in a universe alternate to this one, but rather IN this one. We simply hide things from non-magic folk, or muggles, as the wizarding community call them. If muggles were to find out we exist, we would must assuredly be persecuted. Only a handful of muggles know about us, like muggle parents of wizard children, and a few others. I know I was a bit shaky about this at first, but I grew into it rather quickly. I don't expect you to understand all of it, or even welcome it. But being a wizard, you have an amazing opportunity. Headmistress Minvera McGonagall is one of the best Hogwarts has seen. She took over in my seventh year, right after... right after umm.. excuse me... right after our last Headmaster was killed..." she quickly brushed a tear from her eye was Ron looked on sadly.

Andrew looked upon them a bit saddened. He must have been a well-known great guy or something, he thought to himself. "Killed? So wizards and witches are not immortal?"

"No, heavens no. We just tend to live a bit longer. Albus Dumbledore was murdered during the Second Wizard War by a former professor of the school. He killed Dumbledore on the Hogwarts' school grounds, while Dumbledore was rushing back, having heard that his students were in danger. You will learn about all these things when you get to Hogwarts," Hermione concluded, wiping another tear from her eyes.

"But I just can't leave... I have a couple days of school left, and I don't know if my parents will allow it. They can be hard to sway, especially over something this strange," Andrew said.

"Andrew, we have been discussing this through your mail with your parents for several years. It took them a long time to accept it, but they told Hogwarts that if you wanted to start attending this fall, you could," Ron spoke, turning his head from Hermione to Andrew.

"They never told me, not once!" Andrew exclaimed. This was outrageous. His parents had always harped on being truthful, and here they were, holding back one of the biggest surprises ever.

"Your parents and Headmistress McGonagall discussed this for a long time. Your parents wanted to tell you almost immediately, after they themselves agreed that this was no farce. But McGonagall suggested waiting until you were old enough to understand. If you were told when you were younger, it could have jeopardized our way of life. If you tell somebody that wizards and witches exist, perhaps a hunt begins for us?" Hermione sounded very parental, like she had this discussion several times before. "Perhaps you would have let it slip to your friends, or bragged about it."

"But I don't have any friends, and everybody knows I'm one of the quietest people in the school... But I do understand wanting to keep your ways a secret. I've seen how witchcraft has been handled in the past, during the Salem trials in America, and during Britains own witchcraft trials. People were crazy about it," Andrew replied. "But the only thing I have in my life is my studies, my family, and football, it's not like I would have told a bunch of people."

"And now the fact that you're a wizard," Ron said. "That's something very few people have, and it's an awesome thing to have. I'm just glad the hard part is over. Most muggle-born wizard's think it's just a joke, a bunch of lies. Or they run out and tell people. Then the Ministry has to get involved, and go around repairing people's memories. You took it well."

"I suppose so. I mean, I'm still a bit shaky, but who wouldn't be. I think it's cool... Maybe I will actually have friends. Either way, I still have my athletics." Andrew was wondering how many wizards were actually born to muggle parents. There couldn't be that many. But how exactly did wizarding blood get into his family. He would have to ask his parents that question as soon as possible. But before he could ask Hermione and Ron how many wizards are born like he was, Ron spoke up.

"You sure do have you're athletics. You have a perfect build, and you're nowhere near slowing down on your growth pattern."

Andrew was shocked again. What don't these people know! "How do you know I'm an athlete... and what my growth pattern is...?"

Ron looked at Hermione, who simply shrugged. "We have been watching you for a long time, like Hermione said earlier. We had your parents send us your doctors records, and we have seen you play football a few times. I personally think you would make a great Quidditch player."

Andrew smiled. Not often did he get compliments from anybody but his parents. "I assume then, that Quidditch is a wizarding sport?"

Ron laughed a bit. "You do have a lot to learn, but yes, it is a wizarding sport. And it is also the most renown. It's a lot like football, but it's on broomsticks. Three balls, the quaffle, the bludger and the snitch, are used in the game. You play seven to a side; three chasers, who's job is to use the one quaffle to score goals in three hoops, stationed at either end of the pitch; two beaters, who's job is to protect the Seeker from the bludgers, and the Seeker who's job is to find the snitch. The snitch is a very fast ball that has wings, and the Seeker has to catch the ball to end the game. You get 10 points for a goal scored, and 150 points for catching the snitch. But the Seeker has to watch it for the bludgers. They sort of have a mind of their own, and are beat towards the Seeker, trying to keep him from seeing the snitch. There is also a keeper, charged to protect the goals."

"So the whole broomstick thing is real too?" Andrew asked.

"You betcha. In fact, the Quidditch World Cup Finals are in a month. Think you would like to come watch?" Ron replied.

"As long as I'm allowed. Wow. I can't believe I'm just going to leave my life behind to become something I never knew really existed. But it's so cool!" Andrew could barely hide his excitement. His eyes lit up like this only when he played football, and even that was a rarity.

Hermione looked happy. "Well, I'm glad you're excited. I'm sure we can get you free seats, so you won't have to pay for them. They are quite expensive, and most likely already sold out. I'll just send an owl to Harry and see if we can't put you in his personal box. He has twins going into their first year, and Ron and I have a niece and two nephews going for the first time in the fall.

"What, you guys don't have kids?" Andrew inquired quite rudely.

"Yes, but they already graduated. Our son Brice, who left Hogwarts two years ago, is a Quidditch keeper for the Sunderland Sterns. And our daughter Mathilda left just this year. She will be working for her uncle Bill, Ron's older brother, at Gringott's bank in Diagon Alley.

"You guys... I mean WE have our own bank?" His shock never seemed to full go away. Every little thing seemed another surprise, even if it shouldn't be.

"Yes, it's in Diagon Alley, which is in London," replied Ron, who had now stood and was leaning against the fireplace, still rubbing soot out of his eyes.

"I've been to London several times, but I've never noticed it before." Another shock. Something that big must be obvious, yet he had been all over London and had never once seen anything that might look like it.

"That's because it's hidden," said Hermione. "Only those who know where to look can find it."

"I see... Will I be shown where it's at?"

"Yes you will. I will send an official letter and a note to let you know when we will pick you up for the Cup. I'm sure we will have no trouble getting you into the box. Harry plays for the English National Team, and they are playing Bulgaria for the World Cup Championship. Bulgaria is a three time defending champion, and this will make their fifth straight appearance in the World Cup final, dating all the way back to the first Cup Harry himself went to." Ron looked very happy with this, as if he himself was playing. It obviously meant a lot to him as well.

"How do you know him so well, this "Harry" guy?" Andrew questioned.

"Well we started school the same year; me, Ron, and Harry. We've really been best friends since. Harry is very famous. He is the one who killed Voldemort, the most legendary dark wizard of the time," said Hermione. Ron seemed to shutter a bit when the name Voldemort was mentioned. He must have been a real bad guy, Andrew thought.

"Sounds like quite the all around guy," Andrew laughed a bit.

"He is," said Ron. "Me best mate. Married my sister Ginny a few years after she got out of school. Seems like only yesterday. Hermione and I will have been married 20 years in August. Got married almost right after school... it was the best choice of my life."

"Ronald Weasley, are you getting soft on me!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Only soft for you dear. But we better be off. Be expecting an owl from us soon, Andrew. We hope to see you very soon," Ron said as he turned around towards the fireplace. He took Hermione's hand and they stood together in front of the fire. Hermione pulled out her wand, muttered a few words, and the whole room returned to what it looked like before the two magical people had arrived.

"Thanks for that Ms. Hermione." Andrew spoke to their backs.

"It's Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, turning her head and winking at him. "Consider me a teacher, because when you get to Hogwarts, you will have me in class.

"Oh yea.. Right.. Cheers Mr. and Mrs. Weasley!"

"Cheers Andrew. See you soon," Ron said as he pulled out his wand too. Andrew's eyes lit up. They even carry wands, he thought. He pointed his wand at the fire place, and a fire sprung up from nowhere. He reached into his cloak, and pulled out a jar full of a weird looking powder. Ron opened the jar, took out a small handful, and replaced the top. He through the powder into the flames, causing them to turn a weird shade of firey red and green. They both stepped forward into the flame as they said "The Burrow" and quickly disappeared into the flames.


End file.
